


The Scottish Engineer

by lilyhandmaiden



Series: Movie Night [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyhandmaiden/pseuds/lilyhandmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FitzSimmons watch Star Trek. "The haggis is in the fire for sure."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scottish Engineer

Once they graduated from the Academy, FitzSimmons found themselves with an unaccustomed amount of time on their hands. One did not complete graduate school at the age when most people are just starting university and then graduate from the SHIELD Academy three years early without sacrificing quite a few evenings to study and work. This was not to say they’d had no fun at all—there had been movie nights, game nights, pub quiz domination, and of course the Boiler Room. Nor did late nights at the lab and article research-revision marathons cease once they started work at SciOps. But the ratio of free nights to work nights had decidedly shifted, and in their first bright days of a job security likely to extend into the foreseeable future, they were somewhat at a loss as to what to do with themselves.

It was Simmons’s idea that they watch through all of Classic _Doctor Who_ from the beginning. The endeavor took up about two years, and they had just finished it when they were recruited on to Coulson’s team. From there, it just made sense that they jump into the original series of _Star Trek_.

So far, they were enjoying it. Well, mostly enjoying it. Simmons got particularly excited when they found a piece of “futuristic” technology they had personally done one better on (“That neurotoxin requires a much bigger dose than ours and it doesn’t work nearly as quickly.” “The grip on that phaser is ridiculously impractical.”), turned to each other, declared themselves “better than _Star Trek_ ,” and high-fived. Fitz, though, had a bit of a problem.

“What the hell kind of accent is that?!”

After watching his face for the past several minutes, Simmons was laughing too much to answer him, but his sheer indignation did not require her feedback.

“Seriously, it’s not even consistent! He can’t even choose one kind of bad Scottish accent to do. It’s a disgrace!”

“I’m sure,” Simmons gasped, catching her breath. “I’m sure he’s trying, Fitz. It’s not all _that_ bad.”

“He keeps sounding Irish!”

“Well, maybe they weren’t sure of the character’s nationality at first?”

Fitz gave her a look of unmitigated incredulity. “His name is _Scotty._ ”

This set Simmons off again, and she fell back against the wall of Fitz’s bunk. The two of them sat side by side on his bed, Netflix cued up on his laptop in front of them.

Fitz shook his head. “I saw some of this show as a kid. How did I not remember this?”

“You should be proud that Scotland is represented on the _Enterprise_! That’s a Scotsman boldly going where no man has gone before, Fitz. _And_ he’s an engineer. You’re practically identical.”

“Bloody hell.”

_Enterprise_ engineer Montgomery Scott’s accent did improve in consistency over time, but there were moments when Simmons caught Fitz wincing at his more stereotypical and cartoonish behaviors, such as his relish in using the word “bonny.” This came to a head during an episode part way through the first season, when Dr. McCoy scolded Scotty with a, “now you’ve done it,” and received the reply, “Aye. The haggis is in the fire for sure.”

Fitz moaned and dropped his head into his hands, utterly defeated, while Simmons laughed and laughed.

It wasn’t as though Fitz was without a sense of humor about it; the line became a running joke during subsequent episodes. Klaxons aboard the _Enterprise_ would sound, and Simmons would say, “Now, I can see that there is trouble here, but Fitz, in your opinion as a Scotsman, is the haggis in the fire _for sure_?” At first Fitz just groaned, but eventually he started playing along:

“No, you see, they’d need to be about two warp factors higher for the haggis to really come into the picture, let alone enter the fire.”

And it could have ended there, something shared between the two of them alone on movie nights—but it didn’t. The joke soon carried over into the lab, and that was where it became something of a problem.

They’d been ordered to complete a new tracking device by the time they landed to rendezvous with a suspect.

“That’s in two hours,” Coulson stated, before leaving them to their work. The stress of it all showed on Fitz’s face, and in an attempt at levity, Simmons said, “Looks like the haggis is in the fire, wouldn’t you say?”

It worked. Fitz’s features relaxed into a tiny smile. “The haggis is definitely approaching the fire. But not quite in it. Come on.”

And they had, of course, succeeded.

After that, the line was frequently repeated by one or the other of them when they were on deadline. There came a day, however, when Simmons attempted the joke, and Fitz only frowned.

“Could we maybe not do that in the lab anymore?” he asked.

“Why not?”

“Someone might hear. _Ward_ might hear!”

Simmons rolled her eyes. “I doubt Ward even knows what haggis _is_.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the one to explain it to him.”

“What would be so bad about it?”

“First of all, you do _know_ what’s in a haggis, yeah? And second, after explaining what’s in the haggis, I’d have to explain its applicability both as a Scottish stereotype _and_ as a _Star Trek_ reference. No, thanks.” He turned his attention back to his worktable.

Simmons smirked. Ever since the mission to Ossetia, Fitz had been holding off on demonstrating new devices until Ward was around, looking to him for signs of approval. It was rather adorable. “Are you saying,” she slipped into her (admittedly bad, though not for lack of practice) Grant Ward American accent, “you want Agent Grant Ward to think you’re _cool_?”

“No,” Fitz denied quickly. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? I just don’t think the team would get it, that’s all.”

“All right, I won’t bring it up when anyone else is here, then.”

He looked up at her again. “If you did that, you’d be more likely to let it slip accidentally. Or someone could sneak up on you.”

Simmons raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your resounding faith in my discretion.”

“Come on, you know I don’t mean it like that.”

She wasn’t sure how else he could have meant it, but decided to let it go. “And why on Earth would someone sneak up on me?”

“I don’t know. Practice? We’re on a plane full of secret agents. May sneaks around everywhere all the time.” He saw Simmons wince, her eyes fixed slightly over his left shoulder. “She’s behind me right now, isn’t she.”

“A bit. Just for about the past ten seconds.”

“I consider my point made.”

It finally, inevitably happened at the worst possible moment. Skye, May, and Coulson were with them in the lab and Ward was on coms in the field, two of the DWARFs circling him as he surveyed an abandoned school suspected to be the site of nefarious activity. Suddenly both of the hovering scanners went dark, and with them visual feed from the site to the lab.

Over the coms, they could hear Ward whisper-shouting, “Fitz! What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. Hang on!” Fitz replied, frantically working to restore the feed.

“Could it have been sabotaged?” Skye wondered. “Ward, is anyone there?”

“Are the DWARFs still in the air?” Simmons asked.

“I don’t _know_ , I can’t _see_ anything! Fitz?”

“Just give me a second.” Fitz licked his lips and absently muttered, “The haggis is in the fire for sure.”

At the same time, Ward and Skye said, “What?” Coulson raised his eyebrows, and even May looked bemused. Fitz froze, his mouth open. Freezing was a luxury he could not, at that moment, really afford, and Simmons knew it.

“It’s a saying,” she interjected quickly. “Just an old, traditional saying. It’s, um, _English_. Not that Fitz is English. But it spread. It’s widespread. In Britain. Very common. Not important. Just a thing we say, all of us.” A little voice in her head which was trying to tell her that she was talking too long finally managed to draw her attention, and she stopped.

Skye was looking at her funny, and Fitz was sort of glaring, but she must have done all right—or maybe the circumstances were just too urgent—because the subject was dropped, and within seconds Fitz had restored the feed and the mission was back on. The Haggis Incident, as they came to refer to it, was seemingly forgotten by the rest of the team.

It was only later, when everything had settled down, that Fitz thanked her.

“You’re welcome. Although honestly, Fitz, I’m not sure a little glitch like that was really enough to send the haggis into the fire.”

Fitz shook his head , struggling to keep his expression from wavering out of stern disapproval and into a smile. “To quote Mr. Spock,” he said, “‘when I feel friendship for you, I’m ashamed.’”

Simmons beamed.

 


End file.
